moon child, moon child

i look at the man in the moon

wondering

is he looking back?

does he see me too? the way that I see him?

but maybe, he sees me, because I see myself

in him

for i have always been a child of the moon

every night, I watch his face, as it waxes and wanes

slivers of light disracting from planes of darkness

i feel just like him, not really my own entity

nothing more than a reflection of everyone who is shining brighter

and everyone is shining brighter

i’ve never been the sun

never been that one girl who everyone loves, armed with bright smiles, optimism, and a magnetic personality

never been something that people gravitate towards, revolve around

instead— i am the revolver: always on the outskirts, yet a weapon within my own right

for only i can change the tides

my melancholic light - silvery in its shine - is only revealed in the depths of the darkness

yet when met with brightness, i fade away, rendered invisible compared to others’ accomplishments

unseen by anyone who isn’t searching

and while i thrive in shadows, it’s the sun that casts them

and maybe

just maybe

it casts them for me

light is nothing without darkness

and i am nothing without both

“moon child, moon child,

who are you?”

i am nothing but reflections and redirections, destined to be the one who shines in the dark